


Tired

by 2honeycomb_curls2



Category: South Park
Genre: Angst, Complicated Relationships, Depressed Stan Marsh, Emotional Roller Coaster, Eric Cartman Being An Asshole, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Self-Harm, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:27:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25839568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2honeycomb_curls2/pseuds/2honeycomb_curls2
Summary: Stan is tired. He has been for years. And now he thinks he might not actually need to rest, he might just need Kyle.
Relationships: Kyle Broflovski/Stan Marsh
Comments: 4
Kudos: 104





	Tired

**Author's Note:**

> I just wrote another sp fic but this is entirely a vent fic. We out here, projecting onto my comfort characters. Anyway, this does include self-harm in case you didn’t read the tags, so be cautious kiddos. This is incredibly angsty.

Stan is tired. He has been for years. 

It’s not a type of tired that can be fixed by sleep. It’s the kind of exhaustion that seeps into your bones and leaves you staring at your own life as it passes you by. 

Stan’s been tired for as long as he can remember. At least since his parents’ first separation. Everything had bounced back to normal after they got back together. Everything except Stan. 

He was a high school junior now, nearing the end of the school year, and he would soon be entering the summer break before his senior year. Only a little while longer until his life in South Park ended and his life outside of the small mountain town began. 

This is what he told himself every day as he drove to school. Only a little longer. Until you leave. Until you never look back. Until you stop being so god damn tired. 

With a heavy sigh, Stan parked his car in the South Park High School parking lot. He turned off the car and sat there for a moment, mentally preparing himself for the school day ahead. 

Eventually, he hoisted himself out of his beat up old Jeep, making his way to the school’s shitty old equipment shed behind the football field where Kenny and Kyle usually hung out before class. 

“That is such bullshit, Kenny.” Stan heard Kyle remark as he approached the two. “There is no way you didn’t puke.” 

“Whether or not you believe me, it happened.” Kenny replies, blowing cigarette smoke into Kyle’s face, who was lighting his own Marlboro. 

“Whatcha talking about?” Stan asked, plucking the cigarette from Kyle’s lips and taking a drag before passing it back. 

“Kenny is saying he drank a whole bottle of vinegar and kept it down. Im calling bullshit.” Kyle answered, smoke shrouding the septum piercing he’d done himself at Stan’s fourteenth birthday party as he exhaled. 

“Pfft.” Kenny smirked, leaning against the equipment shed wall. “You’re only calling bullshit because you couldn’t even keep down that bowl of mayo I dared you to eat.”

Kyle rolled his eyes. “Dude, that was forever ago. And I only blew chunks because Stan forced me to get wasted.”

“I didn’t force you to do shit.” Stan interjected. “I offered you one drink, singular, and you took it upon yourself to chug every drink in sight.”

Kyle scoffed fondly, giving Stan a lopsided grin before returning to his conversation with Kenny. Stan took the opportunity to admire his friend. 

Stan loved everything about how Kyle looked, but he was especially fond of his hair. Fire engine red curls that seemed to be the brightest color in South Park. They had become much tamer since they were younger and Kyle had long ago ditched the awful hat he kept them hidden away under. Stan was thankful for that fact every time he got to see Kyle’s hair. 

Of course, there were other things Stan liked about Kyle, he thought as he raked his eyes up and down the redhead’s body shamelessly. For example, he adored the way Kyle filled out his jeans, thighs straining against denim and an ass that could revive the dead. 

“Stan.” Kyle calling his name brought his attention up from his lower half to his equally as perfect, strikingly green eyes. Stan had obviously been checking out his ass, but Kyle only smirked before taking a final drag of his cigarette, putting it out under his sneaker and punching Stan in the arm. 

“Come on, dude. We gotta get to class.” 

///

The first five periods of the day dragged by searingly slow. Stan majorly ignored his class work, as he did most days, opting instead to gaze longingly at the clock, counting the minutes until he could see Kyle. 

40 minutes until Kyle 

25 minutes until Kyle.

5 minutes until Kyle.

The bell rang, signaling the end of American History, and Stan was the first one out of the classroom. He raced towards the cafeteria, taking his usual spot beside Kyle, who was already there. 

“You should buy a lunch, dumbass.” Kyle scolded Stan as soon as he was seated, but still immediately slid his tray over so it was stationed between them. Stan grinned at his friend, taking a handful of fries. 

“God, you guys are so gay.” Cartman complained from where he was sat across from the two. 

“Keep it up and I’ll fuck your mom.” Stan said absentmindedly, focusing on where his thigh pressed into Kyle’s under the table. 

“You probably can’t even get it up for my mom, you dumb homo.” Cartman spat back as a reply. 

“He doesn’t need to. Your skanky mom will screw him anyway.” Kyle said, causing Stan to snort unattractively. 

“Whatever.” Cartman mumbled, and Kenny giggled as he slung an arm over Cartman’s shoulder. “Cheer up, dude. Some of us are still nice enough to put in the effort of popping a boner for your mom.” 

“Fuck off, Kenny.” Cartman said, pushing Kenny off of him, which only made the blonde belly laugh. 

“Eat some of the salad.” Kyle told Stan, motioning towards the plastic container full of veggies on his tray. “You need more greens in your diet.” 

“YOU need more greens in your diet.” Stan replies petulantly, although he complied and dug through the salad with a fork, picking out the croutons.

“Not just the croutons. The vegetables, too.” Kyle warned, digging into the salad himself as well. 

Stan scowled half heartedly. “It’s from a high school cafeteria. How much nutritional value can possibly be in the salad?” 

“Stan. The vegetables.” Kyle said authoritatively, pointing his plastic spork at Stan and raising his eyebrows at him. Stan huffed, eating a few bits of lettuce under Kyle’s watchful eye to appease him. 

After lunch Kyle dumped his tray and slung his backpack over his shoulders, turning to offer Stan a smile. “Are you ready for this quiz?” 

Stan had sixth period Spanish with Kyle, making it his favorite subject, grades be damned. “Absolutely not, dude. I tried to study but then realized I didn’t know what I was supposed to actually be studying.”

Kyle laughed, weaving around students to maneuver his way through the school hallway. “Dude, I told you that you should have paid more attention in class last week.” 

“Yeah, probably.” Stan didn’t mention that last week he had been too busy tracing the outline of Kyle’s side profile with his gaze. “You gonna let me sneak a peek at your answers?” 

Kyle rolled his eyes. “Well, yeah, obviously. I can’t have my super best friend fail his quiz. Next time, though, I’m coming over to make sure you study.”

They got to the classroom and situated themselves in their usual seats, near the back of the classroom and right next to each other. 

“Hey, can I sleep over tonight?” Kyle asked as he dug through the contents of his backpack. “I know it’s a school night, but my mom said she’s cool with it. I told her we had a big project due.” He turned to Stan with a goofy grin and Stan couldn’t help but return the favor. 

“Yeah, dude. My parents don’t give a shit. You gotta promise to help me with my calculus shit, though.” 

Kyle grinned wider, using his index finger to draw an X over his chest, right where his heart was. “Promise.” 

Stan spent most of his quiz time staring at the small patch of exposed skin where Kyle’s sweater rode up. 

///

“Can I ask you something?” Stan heard Kyle say. He turned in his desk chair to see Kyle propped up on his elbow and gazing at Stan, shirtless and with his naked lower half covered by Stan’s comforter. 

The two of them had started screwing around a couple of months back. It was good for them. They helped each other blow off steam. It was just sex. Stan reminded himself of that every time he got caught in the moment and thought about kissing Kyle. Kissing was off limits. It was just sex. 

“Ask away.” Stan quipped back, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He loved seeing Kyle in his bed like this. It made him think that maybe, just maybe, one day it would be more than just sex. Wishful thinking. 

Kyle bit his lip, seeming to think about how to phrase the question. “How come you never take your shirt off when we do it?” Kyle asked softly. 

Stan’s mind instantly ran to his arms, his stomach, concerned in marks and wounds, and he resisted the urge to shrink in on himself. He shrugged. “I just... i don’t want you to see me with my shirt off.” 

Kyle eyed him quizzically. “You didn’t used to care about that, when we were younger.” He said surely. 

Stan shrugged again. “Things change, I guess. I’m just...” what was he? He was tired, so tired, but he couldn’t say that. “I’m just not ready.” He decided. 

Kyle stared at him for another moment before flopping onto his back and rolling to his side, facing away from Stan. 

Stan spent a spell gazing at the curls on the back of his head before Kyle spoke up again. “You gonna stay there all night? Or are you gonna come spoon me?” 

Stan chose the latter. 

///

Fridays were always Stan’s least favorite day of the week. He knew Mondays were generally cursed and Fridays celebrated, but he just couldn’t stand Fridays. They got too much praise, especially since everyone still had to go to school. It was the same as every other day of the week, only everyone else wasn’t as tired and miserable as Stan. 

This particular Friday, as Stan drive Kyle to school, who was perched in the passenger’s seat draped in Stan’s old Metallica t-shirt, Stan got the sinking feeling that this was going to be a disastrous day. 

The feeling only intensified when they met Kenny behind the equipment shed, who was already sucking on a cigarette. “If it isn’t the dead man walking.” He greeted cheerily. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Stan asked. He watched as Kyle took a cigarette out of his pack, putting it between his lips and allowing Kenny to light it. 

“Didn’t you hear?” Kenny said after a beat. “Cartman found out the essay you did for him was just some bullshit you copied from Wikipedia.”

Stan was too tired to laugh, waving away the carton when Kyle offered him a cigarette. “Well it’s what he gets for trying to make me do his essay.” 

“Yeah, well, he said he’s gonna kick your ass.” Kenny said, his voice laced with mock concern. 

Kyle chuckled. “I’d like to see that fatass try to kick anyone’s ass, let alone Stan’s.”

Stan managed to make it all the way through third period without incident. He was at his locker getting his chemistry textbook when Cartman rounded on him. 

“You set me up, you fag!” Cartman yelled. Stan scoffed, too tired to be dealing with this. 

“Get over it, Cartman. You get what you deserve.” He quipped back, continuing to look for his textbook, which was seemingly lost to the horrid mess that was Stan’s locker. 

“You’ve always been jealous of me, and now you’re sabotaging me!” Cartman accused. 

“Get over yourself.” Stan heard someone say, and turned to see Kyle beside his locker, looking bored and with Butters close by. 

“Not until this sad sack of shit apologizes for tanking my grade.” 

“You ranked your own grade, dude.” Stan said, quickly becoming frustrated with this conversation. There was a small group forming around them, people anxious to see the latest drama Cartman has caused, and Stan didn’t have the energy for it today. 

“Apologize to me, you faggy emo fuck!” Cartman shouted, sounding like a toddler throwing a tantrum. 

Stan turned to him with an unimpressed scowl plastered onto his face. “Cartman, I’m not emo.”

“Oh, really?” Cartman said, growing more irritated by the second. “Then what is this?” He grabbed Stan’s arm, vigorously pushing the sleeve of his shirt up. Stan heard a gasp behind him, and knew instantly it was Kyle. 

Stan didn’t move. Didn’t talk. He stood there frozen, staring angrily at his arms, dozens of gashes bright red against his pale skin.

Everyone was quiet. And after a moment, Stan ripped his arm from Cartman’s grip, yanking the sleeve back over his mangled skin. He slammed his locker shut and stormed out of the school building, headed straight for the parking lot. 

Stan basically threw himself into his car, slamming the door behind him with so much force it shook the whole vehicle. “Fuck!” He shouted, dropping his forehead to the steering wheel and willing the tears pricking his eyes to just go away. 

Stan sat there for about ten minutes, breathing rapidly. He heard the passenger door open and close, and heard someone settle into the seat next to him. Stan looked up at Kyle, who said nothing, only lit a cigarette and puffed on it thoughtfully. 

They sat in silence for a long while. Kyle smoked his way through four cigarettes and lit his fifth before speaking. “Dude. You gonna talk about it?”

Stan sighed. “Do I really have to?” 

Kyle shrugged, making a point not to look at Stan. “I dunno. I think you should.” 

Stan scoffed. “Yeah, well. I don’t really want to.”

Another moment of silence, and then Kyle sighed heavily, as of the weight of the world was in his shoulders. “Is this why you don’t want to take your shirt off?” Kyle asked, and he sounded like he might cry, but when Stan looked his eyes were free of tears. 

“I guess.”

Kyle sighed again, and it seemed like they’d been doing an awful lot of sighing. Then wordlessly, Kyle put out his cigarette in the ash tray Stan kept in his car, just for him. He unbuttoned his jeans, pushing them down just enough to reveal a smattering of circular burn marks on his hip. 

“It was a long time ago.” Kyle said after Stan’s been starting for a minute. “They’re a little hard to see, and we usually have the lights off when we... so, yeah.” He rebuttoned his jeans.

“Dude.” Stan said softly, unintentionally drawing out the word. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Kyle laughed humorlessly. “God, Stan. Why didn’t you?”

Stan’s eyes were wet again. “Are you mad at me?”

“No.” Kyle said, sounding shocked at the mere suggestion of it. “God no, Stan. Of course I’m not. I mean- I’m a little mad but... not at you, dude. You know?”

Stan nodded. “Do you want to go back to class?” He asked Kyle, who shook his head. 

“No. Let’s go home.” 

With that, Stan started the car and drove back to his house. Randy and Sharon weren’t home yet, so they were able to get up to Stan’s bedroom with no hassle. 

Once upstairs, both boys laid down, cuddling tightly together as they drifted off to sleep. Stan woke up two hours later, cradling Kyle in his arms. He admired the way his eyelids fluttered as he waited for him to wake up, and ended up waiting so long he fell back asleep. 

They were both awoken a while later by Sharon informing them that dinner was ready. They both ate with the Marsh family, subtly avoiding conversation before sneaking back upstairs to watch a movie on Stan’s laptop, during which Stan fell asleep again. 

The next time he woke up it the sun was peeking through the curtains. Kyle was still wrapped in his arms, Stan’s arm being used as a pillow, his free hand resting on the boy’s hip. Stan watched as Kyle’s green eyes fluttered open. 

“Morning.” Kyle muttered, sleep thick on his voice. His eyes started to close again as he drifted between sleep and conciseness. 

“Why don’t we ever kiss?” Stan asked quietly. 

Kyle’s eyes snapped open again and he gazed at Stan warily. “Dude. What?” 

“Well, it’s just...” Stan started. “I mean, we like. Screw and stuff. And we cuddle all the time. And all that stuff... but we never actually kiss. How come?” He knew the answer already, but he wanted Kyle to say it.

“Well... dude. Cuz we’re not like dating or anything. It’s just sex and stuff. Kissing would be kind of like crossing a line, I guess. Like. I think it would mean we have feelings for each other. If that makes sense.”

“Oh.” Stan said. He thought for a moment. What else did he gave to lose? “Kyle?”

“Yeah, Stan?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Kyle stared at him for moment, eyes flickering to his lips, before he exhaled shakily. “Yeah, dude. Please.” 

So Stan leaned in, kissing Kyle gently, because he seemed like something to be handled gently, in that moment. Kyle tasted like cigarettes, which is exactly how Stan expected him to taste. 

A few hours later, when Stan woke up yet again, a note on his bedside table informing him Kyle had hem home and the scent of Kyle lingering on his sheets, he felt well rested for the first time in years. 

Stan reaches for his phone, calling Kyle, even though he had likely just left. Kyle answered in the third ring. “Hey, dude.” 

“Hey.” Stan said, smiling purely because it was Kyle. “I know you just left but... I kinda miss you.”

“Kyle giggled. “Yeah. I know what you mean?”

“So remember when you said that if we kissed it would be kind of like we have feelings for each other?”

“I vaguely remember that.” Kyle teased.

“Well, I have feelings for you.”

“Good. I do too.”


End file.
